


percussa resurgo (struck down, i rise again)

by orphan_account



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, also lady sif is there, general avengers/thor references but they're not integral to the story, mentions of the whole team - Freeform, originally going to be a oneshot but it got a little too long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-18
Packaged: 2018-04-18 19:13:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4717334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz gets Simmons out of the Rock; and that was the easy part.</p><p>"She can be whatever she wants to be, and he’ll be whatever she wants him to be, because she’s here. She’s alive and she’s in his arms and even if they try to make her sleep down in the Vault and even if she’s been weaponized, he’s always known she was a weapon anyway. Her smile has always nearly knocked him out, and the sheer brilliance of her mind has always felt like a punch in the gut."</p><p>FitzSimmons at the heart, other characters in the background.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In the end, it is Fitz who realizes that what they really need is a Kree expert if he ever wants to get Jemma out of that godforsaken rock. And he does, he really, really does. 

Problem is, Jiaying is dead and most of the Inhumans who might know something about the rock are scattered all around. Skye’s been hunting them down one by one in attempts to recruit them to her team, but the few she’s found don’t know anything about the Rock other than the fact that it is deadly to them. The Rock is a weapon, and if one more person tells him that, he’s going to start screaming. 

He knows it’s a weapon. He knows that Jemma is trapped inside of some sentient rock weapon, and he needs to get her out. 

“Sif,” Hunter suddenly says. May looks at him in surprise. 

“He’s actually right,” she says, poorly disguising her shock. “Sif knew a lot about the Kree, didn’t she? Maybe she can help us.” 

Skye tenses a little bit. She hasn’t forgotten how the other woman had called her an abomination. “I don’t know if having her around the base is such a great idea.” 

“She understands the agreement,” Coulson says from behind his desk. 

“We need her,” Fitz mumbles quietly, looking at Skye with pleading blue eyes. “If she’s—if she can get Jemma back—“ 

Skye takes a deep breath in through her nose before nodding with obvious reluctance. “Fine. For Simmons.” 

Fitz breaks into a relieved smile and nods at her approvingly. “Thanks, Skye.” 

“One problem,” Coulson interjects. Fitz just knows that he’s going to be disappointed. “We’ve got no way of getting ahold of her. Asgard isn’t exactly a phone call away.” 

“What about Jane Foster?” Skye asks. “I’m sure she’s got a way to ring up her boyfriend, right?” 

Fitz begins to wring his hands. “If she’s at least got some ideas, I can put something together. I—I know I can.” 

Coulson gives him a once over. “Fine. Get working.” 

Fitz can’t say he’s not surprised. Coulson had declared the official search for Jemma over after two months, and it has now been almost four. The director had accepted that he couldn’t stop Fitz from searching on his own time, though. He hoped that indulging Fitz’s latest idea would make him more productive in his other capacities, or that someone who really understood the Kree weapon could at least give them all the closure they needed. 

Fitz immediately set out on his work, enlisting Skye to track down some contact information for Jane Foster. A few disastrous phone calls with her assistant later, Fitz finally manages to get ahold of her. The conversation isn’t quite as fruitful as he had hoped, but it gives him something. She provides him with some basic equations that she thinks might allow sound waves to travel between realms, but she hasn’t had the time to look into it. She wishes him luck, and assures him that if she hears from any Asgardians soon, she’ll direct them his way. 

It takes him a few days, but eventually he develops a prototype that will hopefully let him communicate with the gatekeeper of Asgard. It’s the closest that he’s gotten to finding out anything about Jemma in months, and the hope is nearly crushing. 

*** 

To everyone’s surprise, it works. Heimdal sends Sif through the portal, and she arrives at the Playground with her usual flare. May is there to greet her at the door, since everyone recognizes that she’s Sif’s favorite. 

“Melinda May,” Sif greets with a smile and a nod. “Always a pleasure.” 

“And you as well, Lady Sif,” May greets in return. “Fitz is dying to talk to you.” 

She nods solemnly. “I have news of your scientist.” 

May’s face goes slack in surprise before she pulls herself out of it and leads Sif to the room which houses the Rock. She knows that is where Fitz will be, as he always is. 

“Fitz,” May announces as she enters. “Sif is here.” 

Fitz practically jumps up from his seat in front of a computer as he rushes over to them. 

“Do you—do you know anything about this?” 

“When I received news from Heimdal that your scientist had been trapped inside the Monolith, I came immediately. I believe that I can get her out, but you should be aware of what she will be.” 

“What—what do you mean?” 

“The Monolith is a weapon against the Inhumans. If it pulls a living being inside, that being is transformed into an extension of the Monolith. When your scientist returns, she will be a weapon, designed to exterminate the Inhumans.” 

Fitz swallows, hard. “She’d never—she’d never hurt anybody. Not on purpose.” 

Sif looks at him pityingly. “She will not have a choice.” 

May releases a shaking breath. “So it may be better to leave her in there.” 

Fitz’s head turns so quickly to look at her that his neck cracks. “Out of the question. We’re not discussing it.” 

“Fitz, it’s not just because she will be a danger to our team,” May explains carefully. “She’ll be a weapon. You know Simmons better than anyone. Do you think that’s what she’d want?” 

“She wouldn’t want to be left—left behind, stuck in a rock for the rest of her life,” Fitz chokes out, rage bubbling barely on the surface. “She’d never—she’d never leave one of us behind.” 

May closes her eyes against the images of Bahrain flashing through her mind. “I’m just asking you to think about it.” 

He says that he will, but he never does. Leaving Jemma behind has never been an option. 

*** 

Two days later, the team assembles around the Monolith, clothed in protective gear. Skye and Lincoln, however, are banished to the common area far away, just in case the worst happens. 

Sif nods at Mack to open the latch of the case, her staff raised in preparation. As soon as the door opens, she charges at it and stabs it in the middle. The Rock makes a high-pitched screaming noise as it slowly dissolves. 

“Grab her!” Sif yells as Jemma becomes visible. Hunter rushes forward along with Fitz, and they manage to grab her and pull against the viscous mass that attemtps to hold her in. Sif’s staff begins to shake from the effort of holding it open, and with one final yank, Jemma falls out of it and into Hunter’s arms. 

“She’s naked,” Hunter says dumbly. Fitz can barely register that Jemma, his Jemma, is actually naked in another man’s arms; he’s too shell shocked that she’s alive and breathing in front of him. “Uh, anyone wanna do something about that?” 

Bobbi rolls her eyes and limps over quickly with a coarse blanket, wrapping it around the unconscious body of Simmons. Fitz simply stands, staring, as Sif withdraws her staff and the Monolith lets out one last shriek before falling apart into liquid. The liquid promptly disappears into thin air; the thing of all of his nightmares for months is just gone, just like that. 

He moves quickly toward where Bobbi is barking orders and heaving Jemma onto a gurney. 

“Jemma,” he breathes. He grasps at her thin, pale arm as the gurney begins to quickly move toward the medical bay. “Jemma. Jemma.” 

Bobbi gives him an apologetic look as she pushes Jemma into the prepared quarantine room and shuts the door. His hand presses against the glass, and he continues to whisper her name like a litany. 

*** 

He’s not allowed to see her for three more days, but he sits in front of her door in his every waking moment, and for most of his sleeping ones, too. Bobbi finally allows him inside and she tries to make him wear gloves, but she gives up when he takes them off immediately so that he can feel Jemma’s hand in his own. 

Jemma remains asleep, sedated with a heavy cocktail. He stares at her face and feels tears burn in his eyes at the very sight of her. His stomach churns with a combination of relief and fear. Her cheeks are sallow, skin even paler than it has always been, but he can see her pink lips part and air pass through them, and that’s enough. 

“Her DNA—“ Bobbi begins before shaking her head and pulling up the results on her tablet, handing it to Fitz. She can show him better than she can explain it. “It’s completely different. The first slide is what her blood looked like before. The second is what it looks like now. And the third one is Skye’s.” 

Fitz feels his mouth go dry. Her cells look more like Skye’s than her own now, but it’s still different than the Inhuman’s. 

“She’s been altered,” Bobbi supplies. “In the moments she’s been awake, she’s repeatedly asked me not to make her do it. I don’t know exactly what that means, but she’s scared. She’s terrified, of whatever it did to her.” 

Fitz’s heart stops and he wordlessly hands Bobbi the tablet back and moves to sit on the small bed. He places his hands on both sides of Jemma’s face, thumbs brushing along her sharply visible cheekbones. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs to her. “It’s alright. We’re gonna fix it. Together.” 

Bobbi smiles sadly at the scene and moves to leave. “Hey, Fitz?” 

He looks back to her with haunted blue eyes. “Yeah?” 

“She’s going to need you,” Bobbi tells him. “She’ll need your help to get through this. Don’t—don’t let her push you out, because she’s going to try.” 

Fitz nods at her, knowing that she refers to her own healing process after Ward did to her. At first, she had clung desperately to Hunter. Then, she had pushed him away until her own isolation had nearly broken her. Now, the two have moved into the same bunk and have weekly sessions with Garner. 

He turns his attention back to Jemma as he hears the door shut. He tells her everything, about how scared he was when he realized she was gone. He confesses that he thought she’d run off to avoid their date, but when Skye had pulled up the security footage to prove him wrong, they hadn’t been able to find her anywhere. Skye had rewound the footage of the Monolith room to see what time she’d left—and then they had seen it. He’d promptly stood and ran to the room, begging desperately for the Rock to spit her out. Then he’d seen her broken nails on the concrete from her struggle to fight the power of the Monolith, and he had promptly vomited.

“I told you I couldn’t live if you didn’t,” Fitz whispers as he shifts to lay beside her. He runs a hand up and down her arm that has no IV attached. “And I didn’t. I couldn’t live—and when everyone said that I had to accept that you were gone, I couldn’t. Because there’s just—there’s no—I’m not meant to exist in a universe without you.” 

He is interrupted by a quiet knock on the door and Skye slips in with a tear-stricken face. 

“I just wanted to see her,” Skye says quietly as she stares at Jemma’s face. “Before—before she wakes up and I can’t anymore.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Coulson thinks that it’s going to be too dangerous for Simmons and I to be in the same space.” 

Fitz looks confused. “But your bunks are right beside each other.” 

Skye looks guiltily to the floor. “He, uh, he moved all of her stuff. Down to the Vault.” 

“And you let him?” Fitz growls as he untangles himself from Jemma. 

“Fitz, she could kill me,” Skye pleads with him to understand. 

“You could have killed all of us. She’s just different now,” Fitz reminds her. “Or have you forgotten that you are too?” 

Skye gasps and steps back, tears flooding her eyes. “Fitz, I—“ 

They’re interrupted by Jemma’s heart monitor spiking, the beeping noise rapidly increasing in speed. Fitz turns quickly away from Skye and toward Jemma, desperately grabbing onto her hand. 

“Jemma? Jemma! No, no, no.” 

Jemma suddenly sits up, eyes snapping open. The familiar hazel quickly flashes to a deep blue that he recognizes from somewhere—the crystals. That’s what color they are, they’re the color of the Terrigen crystals. 

“Jemma?” Fitz asks her desperately. “Jemma, look at me.” 

She does look at him, and her eyes flash back to their caramel color. Her face crumbles in pain or fear, he’s not sure, maybe it’s both. 

“Fitz,” she whimpers. “Fitz.” 

She snaps her head back to Skye, who has backed up against the door. 

“Skye, run! Please, Skye!” 

Skye stands stock still, suddenly unable to move. A wind picks up in the room, and Jemma’s hair blows wildly around her face. Her eyes screw shut and she makes fists with her hands. 

“SKYE RUN!” she shrieks. She grabs at her head, fingers curling around the cyclone that is her hair. “SKYE, PLEASE!” 

Fitz finally takes actions, moving to push Skye out of the door and slamming it shut. 

“Jemma, what’s going on? What’s happening?” 

“Don’t make me do it,” she cries. “Please, I don’t want to do it. Please.” 

“Don’t make you do what?” Fitz asks, moving toward her. Her hand raises suddenly, as if it’s against her own will, and a stream of bright blue light shoots from her palm. Fitz dives to the ground to avoid it, and the light destroys the door; Fitz can only assume that Skye had immediately taken off running. 

Jemma sobs, rocking herself back and forth as the wind continues all around her. Fitz isn’t sure what to do, but something compels him forward. He crawls toward Jemma on the bed and pulls her into him, holding her tightly and mumbling nonsense into her hair. 

The wind begins to quiet, but her cries continue. Soon, her hair settles once more. When he moves to wipe the tears from her face, she opens her eyes to look at him. They’re the color of dark honey, and they’re terrified. They flutter closed as he kisses her forehead. 

She clings to him desperately, murmuring “no, no, no” as agents run in with their guns drawn. Fitz feels like he’s out of his own body when he screams at them not to touch her, not to take a single step forward. Hunter pushes through suddenly and stands in front of Fitz and Jemma, his own gun drawn toward the other agents. 

“I’d suggest you all back right off,” Hunter drawls. “I’d hate to know what the Director would do if you shot the heads of the Science and Weaponry departments.” 

They lower their weapons and shuffle out, but Fitz knows it’s not over. Jemma obviously does, too, because she looks between him and Hunter like a cornered animal. 

“Please, don’t let them kill me. Please.” 

Hunter looks as though he’s been punched right in the face at her words, and Fitz feels the bottom of his stomach drop out like he’s on a particularly unpleasant roller coaster. 

“I would never let anyone hurt you, Jemma,” Fitz assures her, petting her head. “I promise.” 

Hunter nods firmly. “Not on my watch, Simmons.” 

Bobbi enters the room, looking flustered. She moves toward the bed and approaches Simmons. 

“Hey, Jemma, you okay?” she asks gently, and Fitz is surprised she can even make her voice sound that way. He wonders if that’s how she talks to Hunter when nobody can hear her. It’s soft like his favorite jumper, and for a moment he struggles to reconcile the sound of it with the woman he knows. 

Jemma shakes her head no, and Bobbi bites her lip. “Alright. Would you like some more diazepam? 

Jemma nods emphatically, and Fitz opens his mouth to protest. 

“She needs more time,” Bobbi cuts him off, holding up a hand. “She deserves this.” 

Fitz can’t argue with that, so he lets Bobbi inject the sedative into Jemma’s IV. It’s not enough to knock her back out, though, and he’s sure it’s wrestling with the spikes in her body’s adrenaline. Jemma’s face does relax, and when he tries to move off of the bed she clenches her fist around his shirt. 

“Please don’t leave me.” 

“Never,” he concedes, settling in beside her. Bobbi lets Hunter lead her from the room, stepping over the shattered remains of the door. 

Jemma becomes soft and pliable against his side, sighing. “Fitz, I’m never going to be the same, am I?” 

Her voice is wobbly and he has to clear his throat to respond. “We’ll do our best to get you back to normal. And if we can’t then we’ll—we’ll figure it out.” 

There is a beat of silence as her arms tighten around his middle. 

“If I can’t go back to normal, I’ll have to leave, Leo,” she says. “I’m dangerous to Skye, and to the new Inhuman team. I’ll have to leave SHIELD.” 

“Then we go into the private sector,” Fitz responds immediately. “You know Stark has been head-hunting us for—for years. We’ll get an apartment, like at the Academy, and we’ll make more money than we know what to do with.” 

He feels Jemma stiffen and then he feels her lips against his neck. “You’d come with me?” she asks, voice breaking. 

“Of course,” he answers gruffly into her hair. “Of course I would.” 

She sniffles lightly and he pulls her closer to him, as close as she can get. “Shh, Jemma. Just rest, okay? I’ve got you. We’re gonna get through it.” 

She nods weakly on his chest and releases a shuddering breath. The diazepam increases her drowsiness, but she doesn’t want to sleep. She doesn’t want to forget a moment of this. Well, she’d like to forget her uncontrollable urge to kill Skye and Lincoln, but other than that…

“What does it feel like?” Fitz breaks the silence. “The um—whatever powers you have now.” 

“It’s almost like boiling,” Jemma explains slowly. “That’s the best way I can put it. I literally feel my blood boil, from the bottom to the top. And once it hits the top, that’s when the wind begins. And it feels like the wind cycles down from my head through my arm, and then there’s the light.” 

“Your eyes turn blue,” he points out. 

Jemma looks at him curiously. “Do they? I haven’t—I obviously haven’t seen it.” 

“How often did it happen to you? In the Monolith?” 

“Not all that often,” Jemma sighs. “Time was—arbitrary in there. Obviously the Rock couldn’t grab any Inhumans, so it just—taunted me? Provoked me? I’m not sure, but I think it conditioned me to sense Inhuman DNA. That’s the trigger.” 

Fitz nods against her head. “I see. So we un-do the trigger.” 

“No,” Jemma interrupts sharply. He starts, pulling back so he can look her in the eyes, and he sees that they are brimming with fear and moisture. “We un-do all of it. I don’t want to risk—risk anything turning it back on.” 

“But what if you could harness—“ 

“No, Fitz. We’re not discussing it.” 

And Fitz knows what that means, and that’s okay. She can be whatever she wants to be, and he’ll be whatever she wants him to be, because she’s here. She’s alive and she’s in his arms and even if they try to make her sleep down in the Vault and even if she’s been weaponized, he’s always known she was a weapon anyway. Her smile has always nearly knocked him out, and the sheer brilliance of her mind has always felt like a punch in the gut. Her laugh was like getting a concussion, he could hardly remember who he was after the sound. She’d always been lethal in the best way. 

*** 

He doesn’t try to have the conversation for a long time. He wants her to be the one to bring it up, or at the very least, he wants to make sure the focus is on healing her. That’s the term she prefers; she doesn’t want it to be called “fixing” or “deweaponizing” or “realteration”—she prefers for it to be called “healing” and so that’s what he makes sure all of their lab minions and their friends call it that, too. 

He hates the process. She keeps testing things on herself alone in the lab in the dead of night. He also hates that she sleeps in Vault D no matter how many times he tries to send her to her bunk or to his own bed. He mostly hates it because he won’t let her sleep alone even though Vault D still feels like it’s haunted by a ghost with sharp cheekbones and a sick and twisted mind. Regardless, he sets up a bed near hers. It stays there even though she pulls him into her own bed two hours in to their first night after a particularly nasty nightmare.

“Jemma?” he says softly as he pushes open the doors to the lab. She sits at a table, wearing a pair of yoga pants and an old shirt of his from when he got his first Masters degree. 

She doesn’t even glance up at him as she balances something on a scale. 

“Hello, Fitz.” 

“Jemma, it’s nearly three. What are you doing?” 

“I woke up in the middle of the night and realized that I think I’ve found the solution,” Jemma says simply, shrugging nonchalantly. 

Fitz heaves a tired sigh. “Jemma, you’ve got to get some sleep.” 

She shakes her head rapidly, still not looking at him. “I don’t like to be in the lab during the day.” 

His brow furrows in confusion and he moves closer to her. “What d’you mean?” 

Now she furtively looks away from him, not even looking at her work. “What if Skye or Lincoln is too close?” 

“Then they can avoid the lab!” Fitz bursts indignantly. He’s sick and tired of Jemma having to make all of the adjustments. 

“No, that’s not fair to them,” Jemma says quietly. “I just want to get better. I want my life back.” 

He’s not sure why, but that’s the straw that breaks him. It’s three in the morning and Jemma is sitting in the lab in the pitch black, and everything about the way she looks reminds him of how she threw herself out of a plane to save them all. She’s giving up everything she is just to keep Skye and Lincoln safe, and he feels a hot pit of resentment grow inside of him. 

This isn’t how things were supposed to go. Ever since she’d tearfully whispered “maybe there is” and grabbed his hand, he couldn’t help but imagine what could be. Then he’d stuttered his way through asking her on a date, finally, after ten years. She’d agreed. And then she’d been eaten by a rock. 

“It’s not fucking fair!” he shouts, smacking his hands against the countertop. Jemma startles and looks at him, wide-eyed. “This isn’t—this isn’t how things were supposed to go!” 

Jemma bites hard on her bottom lip and puts a hand on his back. “Fitz, I’m so sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing!” he practically roars, brushing her off. “What are you so damn sorry for, Jemma? 

“Everything!” she shouts back, standing shakily off of the stool. “For taking the oxygen! For going to Hydra and letting you believe it was because you weren’t enough! For you thinking you had to lie to me about Skye! For being sucked into a giant rock and for the fact that I am now a weapon against one of the people I hold dearest to me!” 

Fitz pauses, panting with the exertion of his miniature breakdown. “You do realize most of what you just said wasn’t even your fault, right?” 

She looks guiltily down at the floor and he moves on instinct, pulling her into him. 

“I’m sorry we got so out of sync,” she murmurs against his shoulder. 

“Me too,” he replies. He feels her sway slightly. “Jemma, let’s get you to bed. We can have this conversation some other time.” 

“I can do it,” she protests. “I want to talk it about it now. We’ll just keep putting it off, Fitz.” 

Fitz considers her and relents. “Alright. But let’s at least go somewhere more comfortable.” 

Jemma agrees and they move together toward Vault D. When they settle onto the bed, lying down and facing one another, Jemma opens her mouth and begins to speak. It’s a long stream of pent-up guilt and frustration and blame, and Fitz takes it all in before responding. By the end of it, they’ve both cried at least twice.  
He’s pretty sure it’s nearly morning by the time they’re done but it’s impossible to tell due to the lack of windows in the Vault. Eventually she fades off into sleep, and the warmth of her against him lulls him to bed as well. 

When he wakes up, Jemma is once again not beside him. He’s also being dragged upward by Hunter, who hadn’t even bothered with rousing him first. 

“Fitz, mate, it’s Simmons. It’s bad. Come on.” 

The words are like a shot to his chest and he immediately chases after Hunter up the stairs and down the hallway. As soon as he’s out of the basement, he hears a scream that is undoubtedly Jemma—and then the scream cuts short. 

His legs can’t carry him fast enough, and by the time he reaches the lab, Bobbi is on her knees at Jemma’s side, fingers searching for a pulse. Fitz sees a syringe on the floor near Jemma’s hand.

“What did she do?” he barks. 

Bobbi looks at him in abject horror. “She injected herself with something. I can’t tell what it was.” 

Bobbi lowers her head down toward Jemma’s mouth and immediately begins pushing her hands into her chest. 

“No breath sounds. Somebody get me a crash cart, I can’t feel a heartbeat.”

Hunter snaps into action and grabs the portable defib machine from the corner of the lab. Bobbi rips off Jemma’s shirt and charges the paddles. 

“Clear!” she needlessly shouts at the only two people in the room. Hunter quickly runs to the control board and sets off the Playground’s alarms as Bobbi shocks Jemma. Fitz puts his hand over his mouth as Jemma’s entire body jerks upward. He feels his eyes burn painfully and squeezes them shut as Bobbi charges the paddles once more. 

Bobbi yells “Clear” just as Mack, May, Skye, and Coulson run into the room. Fitz fully intends to tell Skye she needs to leave, but all sound is caught in his throat. Besides, Jemma probably isn’t must harm to her while she’s coding. 

He snaps his eyes open just as Bobbi whoops in victory. “Her heart’s beating. It’s beating.” 

Skye sinks against the wall in relief, and Coulson places a calming hand on her shoulder. Fitz sinks to his knees, trembling. He crawls toward Jemma, but instead of grabbing for her, he grabs at the syringe instead. 

“What the hell was in this?” he demands. When nobody responds, he stands and approaches Jemma’s bench, rifling through every paper he can get his hands on. Fitz opens up her tablet and clicks around, desperate to discover what she had done. 

“Fitz, calm down—“ Skye tries, but Fitz cuts her off. 

“She did this because of you! She’s so damn worried about the rest of you that she’s willing to kill herself if she thinks it’ll keep you safe!” 

Skye stumbles backward for a moment, looking as though he’d hit her in the face. Then she squares her shoulders. “It wouldn’t be the first time, Fitz. She threw herself out of a plane for you.” 

“That was for all of us!” 

“It was for you! She went undercover in fucking Hydra for you! It’s not my fault she became a weapon against me, and if you think that it’s not breaking my heart every minute that I can’t even talk to her without that rock taking over her mind and forcing her to try to kill me, then you don’t know the first thing about me.” 

Fitz begins to form a comeback when his eyes freeze on a table of data on the tablet screen. “Oh, God.” 

“What?” Bobbi shouts from her position over Jemma’s body. “She’s hanging on but barely. I need her in the medbay.” 

“Here,” Fitz says, shoving the tablet at her. “This is what she did. I think she was trying to—“ 

“—destroy the additional proteins and electrons in her blood,” Bobbi finishes. “Got it. Hunter, May, get her up, we need to move. She needs epinephrine to keep her from coding again.” 

Skye and Fitz remain frozen in the hustle and bustle, even after the rest have all left. 

“Do you think I’m still mad at Simmons for the whole Inhumans thing?” 

Skye’s words break through the silence and Fitz starts. “Honestly? I’m not sure. But you two have hardly been close since Hydra.” 

Skye scoffs and crosses her arms. “Yeah well you’re not the only one who was hurt by her leaving when we needed her the most.” 

Fitz purses his lips. “I get why she left. I’m still not—I still don’t like it but I understand more now.” 

Skye nods. “I understand, too. I’m just still pissed that she ever though she could be making things worse.” 

“That wasn’t my fault.” 

“I’m not saying that it was. I’m saying that we’ve all been through a lot.” 

“She needs us right now,” Fitz says, sitting down on a stool and putting his head in his hands. “She won’t be happy until she’s back to normal.” 

“Well I can’t help her,” Skye replies, defeated. “I can’t be anywhere near her.” 

“I know it’s not—it’s not your fault. But she feels like, if she can’t get better, she’s got to leave SHIELD.” 

“And if she leaves SHIELD—“ 

“—I’m going with her.” 

“Even after everything?” 

After a beat, Fitz nods, rubbing his hand over the stubble on his jaw. “Yeah.” 

Skye gives him a sad smile. “We have to fix her. I can’t lose you both.”

“I don’t know how, Skye.” 

“I might have an idea. But you won’t like it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Bus Kids get caught by May, Jemma learns to control her powers, and Jemma enlists Skye in a devious plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me way longer than intended to write! And this was only supposed to be a two chapter story, but it looks like I'm making it three. Hopefully the last chapter will be up by next Sunday. 
> 
> Thank you so much for all of the feedback! And as always, check me out on tumblr at superirishbreakfasttea.tumblr.com

““No, no, no, no,” Fitz grumbles repeatedly. “I said no to the both of you.” 

“Fitz,” Jemma whines. “I think that Skye has a point!” 

The tablet in front of them laughs. Fitz glares down at Skye’s face.

“Bet you never thought there would be a day that we would team up against you, Fitzy,” Skye chirps. “Maybe people will start calling us Skimmons.” 

“Once I stop trying to murder you, of course,” Jemma says lightly. 

“Not funny,” Fitz snaps. “Neither of you are funny.” 

Jemma pegs Skye with a sardonic look before sighing. “Fitz, I’m going to be fine. We can’t fix it if you don’t let us try.” 

“Yes well excuse me for not wanting you to wake up in another hospital bed, Jemma!” 

“Maybe I should let you two finish this conversation alone,” Skye says awkwardly. With a small beep, she’s off the tablet. 

“I think it’s a good idea,” Jemma tells Fitz firmly. “I know it seems crazy, but if I can’t fix it, I’ve got to learn how to control it. It only activates when I’m around Skye or Lincoln. The only way I can learn to push the urge back is to let them fight with me.” 

“I’m not going to watch this,” Fitz growls. “I’ve had to—I’ve seen—I’ve seen too much of you in—in pain, and I won’t do it again.” 

Jemma inhales sharply and reaches out toward him, catching his wrist. “If I can’t be who I was—I need to learn to be what I am now,” Jemma pleads weakly. “You of all people, I know you can understand.” 

Fitz shakes his head. “This is different, Jemma. You’re endangering yourself. You could get yourself killed.” 

“I have to do this, Fitz.” 

“When I said we could eliminate the trigger, this isn’t what I meant. We could study your synapses firing, see what parts of your brain are lighting up when you sense Inhuman DNA.” 

“Sometimes the science isn’t enough,” Jemma mumbles, wringing her hands.  
He looks at her as if she’s grown a second head. “Did you really just say that?” 

“I know how it sounds—“ 

“Do you really, Simmons? Because you’re talking bloody nonsense if you ask me!” 

It’s the first time he’s called her Simmons since she went into the Rock, and the sound of her surname in his mouth sends her reeling. 

“I don’t want to do this without you,” Jemma whispers, voice small as she takes a step back and wraps her arms around herself. He exhales harshly and turns to look at her. She looks small in the middle of the Vault, his hoodie on her increasingly thin frame. A pair of her old Academy sweatpants slung low across her hips reveal jutting bones, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Leo, please. Don’t make me do this alone. You’re the only person I—I can trust.” 

“Trust for what?” Fitz asks, stepping toward her. 

“To shoot either one of us with an ICER if things get out of hand,” she says slowly. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” 

“You don’t want Skye to get hurt,” Ftiz corrects quickly. She hesitates but nods. 

A beat of silence passes before Fitz finally speaks. “Someone has to have your back.” 

She beams at him, and it almost unknots the nerves in his stomach. Almost. 

*** 

They have to sneak off the base at one in the morning. May is pretty much awake at all hours, but Fitz knows she sleeps for a few hours between midnight and four a.m. He figures that will give them enough time to do what needs to be done and then get back to the base. 

“You’re sure about this?” Fitz asks as he turns off the SUV in the middle of an empty field. The headlights illuminate the area in front of them, and he watches as another set emerges from the other side of the field. 

Jemma nods solemnly. “Skye is here.” 

“I want it on the record that I hate this.” 

“I know you do,” Jemma replies patiently. “Flash the lights so she knows we’re ready.” 

Fitz rolls his eyes. “It’s not a bloody drug deal, Jemma.” 

He flashes the lights anyway. He sees Skye get out—or at least, he sees her silhouette—and Jemma squeezes his hand. 

“This is going to work,” she tells him, and she sounds unconvinced. 

He knows this is the part where he’s supposed to make her feel better, but he just doesn’t have it in him. Not when it’s the dead of night and she’s about to activate some alien powers embedded in her DNA to fight one of their best friends. The best he can do is give her a squeeze back. She gives him a shaky smile and gets out of the car. As soon as she steps out, the wind begins. 

Jemma looks at him, suddenly fearful. “Fitz, what if you get hurt?” 

“I’ll be fine,” he assures her. “I’m going to move over there, alright? Just try to keep your crazy light stream away from me, would you?” 

She lets out a huff of laughter but then her eyes flash blue and he knows that his Jemma is, for the moment, gone. He moves to what he deems a safe distance, where he can still make a shot with the ICER tucked into his jeans. It’s not long before Jemma’s wind picks up in speed, causing the grasses around them to violently ripple. 

“Ready, Simmons?” Skye calls out. Jemma shoots a beam of blue light at her, and Skye dives to avoid it. “I take that as a yes, then.” 

“Don’t provoke her, Skye!” Fitz shouts from the proverbial sidelines. “Don’t make this worse.” 

She pegs him with a look as Jemma’s eyes briefly return to their honey color. 

“She’s alright, Fitz.” 

Jemma’s hands begin to move in a circular motion, almost as though she is forming something with them. Skye eyes her wearily, her own hands half-raised in defense. A small glow of blue begins to form in the center of Jemma’s palms. 

“Oh no,” Skye breathes. “That’s a new one.” 

The blue light grows larger and larger as Jemma molds it into a sphere. The wind grows even stronger, and Fitz’s measuring tool measures it at around 38 miles per hour. 

Her eyes flash brown and she desperately looks to her friends. “Fitz, now! Shoot, please!” 

“No, Fitz!” Skye cries out. “I’m okay. I’m fine.” 

Fitz looks toward Jemma, struggling to make out her facial expression in the light. She opens her mouth to speak, but her eyes flash blue once more and she is sucked back into her own storm. 

The ball of light erupts violently, rocketing toward Skye, who quickly deflects it with a rush of vibrations. The energy explodes outward in a briefly blinding flash, and when Skye blinks the light out of her vision, she is startled to find Jemma right in front of her. The biochemist’s hand reaches out and grasps her forearm, causing an immediate burning sensation. Skye attempts to get out of the other girl’s grip, but Jemma is surprisingly fast at twisting her arm behind her back. 

Skye takes a deep breath in. “Sorry, Jemma.” 

She launches the other girl over her back, wincing as her body thuds loudly against the ground. She backs up as quickly as possible as Jemma slowly rises back up; her hands immediately begin creating a new sphere. 

“Jemma, come on,” Skye urges. “It’s me. You can do this. I know you can. Push it aside. Clear it all out.” 

She launches the next sphere at Skye, who deflects once again. This time, however, her opponent and friend is standing too close, and the ball of light immediately hits Jemma. The nearly gale-speed wind stops abruptly. Temporarily blinded for a second time, Skye attempts to make sense of it all as her vision clears. 

“JEMMA!” Fitz screams, and then he’s running toward her faster than she’s ever seen him move. 

“I’m so sorry,” Skye pants, falling to her knees and clumsily checking Jemma’s breathing. “Oh my God.” 

“Never again,” Fitz growls, shaking hands reaching for a pulse on her neck. “I mean it, Skye. We’re not doing this again.” 

He lets out a heavy sigh of relief when he feels her pulse thrumming strong against his fingers. His relief is short-lived as the wind suddenly begins again and he and Skye are thrown backward away from her. Fitz immediately feels around for his gun and finds that it fell out of his pocket during his fall. While he crawls around in search of it, Jemma immediately engages Skye once more. 

In a swift movement, Jemma raises her hands up above her head, throwing her head back. Chunks of the earth fly upward and begin to twirl around one another; Fitz is pretty sure he hears the branches of a distant tree snapping. 

“Fitz, get in the car!” Skye screams at him. “You’re going to get knocked out!” 

“No way in hell!” he yells back over the howling winds. 

“Fitz, please!” Jemma begs in a moment of lucidity. “Please, get back in the car. I don’t—I don’t know what’s happening, this never—“ 

And then she is gone again, and something in her voice convinces him that it may not be a bad idea. He’s just a mere human in this alien fight, so he dashes as quickly as his shaking legs will take him. The fight between Skye and Jemma escalates quickly. First Jemma attempts to pelt Skye with branches, rocks, and large portions of the land that has ripped out from underneath their feet, but Skye easily deflects them. Her carefully practiced control allows her to fling them away from Jemma. 

Not that her efforts go appreciated. Instead of the grateful version of Jemma Simmons that she’d grown to expect, the other girl simply shoots sphere after sphere of light. Eventually, one hits Skye, and she immediately learns that they burn like a cattle brand. All Fitz can see from the car is a dizzying flurry of light being volleyed back and forth; the occasional sphere gets picked up in the rapid winds. Skye is careful not to push the spheres too close to Jemma again, but it becomes a little tempting when a tree stump nearly takes her head off. 

Every now and then, Skye gets a glimpse of brown eyes and a pained face. It kills her, but she keeps fighting. Somewhere in her gut, she knows this is the only way. 

“Come on, Jemma, fight it!” she calls to her. “You can do this!” 

There’s another brief flash of brown, and Skye urges Fitz to come closer once more. 

“We need to remind her who she is,” Skye tells him. “Just—little things. Anything at all that might break her out.” 

Fitz gives her a skeptical look. “I don’t—what kinds of things? We’re just gonna—yell random facts at her?” 

Skye rolls her eyes as she ducks to avoid a jet of power. “You’re Jemma Elizabeth Simmons. You’re from Sheffield, England. You are an Agent of Shield, the head of your very own science department!” 

Fitz watches in surprise as Jemma’s eyes briefly flash brown again. 

“You pretend you drink your coffee black but you really put in a bit of sugar,” Fitz calls out to her. “You failed your field assessment because you basically went on a suicide mission, and then I failed because I bloody lost it even though it was all fake. You love koalas and your favorite color is navy blue. You love your mum and dad, but your mum is a little neurotic and your dad doesn’t really get you all the time. You’re an only child and you always wanted siblings.” 

Skye nods encouragingly as Jemma’s eyes begin to stay brown for longer periods of time. 

“Your favorite ice cream is pistachio, which I think it pretty disgusting. When we got our first apartment, you insisted on unpacking every single thing on our very first day even though all I wanted to do was sleep. You went through a phase where you wanted to be an artist and you were absolutely horrible at everything you tried.” 

Jemma’s assault on Skye suddenly halts and she stumbles back, panting. Her face glistens with sweat as she looks to Fitz, eyes tired and familiar. 

“Keep…keep going,” she breathes. “I’m…I think I’m doing it.” 

He swallows hard, ignoring the way that Jemma’s whimpered request stirs an ache inside of him. “We became friends in Chemistry lab. The first person to call us FitzSimmons was Agent Weaver. You knit something for my mum every single Christmas.” 

Her eyes briefly flash blue and her hand begins to rise on its own accord, but it only makes it halfway; she quickly gets ahold of herself and slowly lowers her hand. 

“You’re the only person other than my mum who calls me Leo. Your favorite tea is mint, but you usually drink English Breakfast or Earl Grey because you need the caffeine. You need at least eight hours of sleep a night or you’re a terror. One time you made me try yoga. In a public place.” 

The corners of her mouth quirk upward. 

“I have no regrets on that one,” she grits out. “It was quite funny, Fitz.” 

“To you, maybe,” he half-heartedly grumbles. His excitement begins to take over as he lets himself accept that Jemma might just be mastering her new ability. 

“Ask me things,” Jemma interrupts. “Instead of just telling. Ask me.” 

“What’s your favorite dessert?” 

“Crème brulee,” she answers after a moment of tensing her jaw and snapping her eyes closed. 

Skye jumps in. “What’s your favorite holiday?” 

“Christmas, of course.” 

“What’s the best Halloween costume you’ve ever had?” Fitz chimes in. 

“That time we went as Burt and Ernie.” 

Skye immediately begins laughing. “Oh my God, I need photos of that.” 

This continues on for nearly half an hour, during which Jemma’s eyes never switch back to blue. 

“I think you did it, Jemma,” Fitz says, walking slowly toward her. “We should get back. May will be awake soon, and you don’t look good.” 

Jemma nodded weakly. “I’m—not feeling very well.” 

Skye’s brow furrows in concern and she makes her way toward her friend. It suddenly strikes her that it’s the closest she’s been to Jemma in six months, and she steps forward quickly to wrap her arms around the scientist. 

Jemma immediately reciprocates, squeezing back as tightly as she can before her arms loosen in exhaustion and she tilts forward into Skye. 

“Woah, if you’re gonna cop a feel you have to buy me dinner first,” Skye teases, eying Fitz. “Can you help a sister out?” 

Fitz reacts instantly, supporting Jemma’s weight with a little squeeze around her waist. 

“Let’s get you home,” he tells her softly. She nods against his shoulder, face damp against his shirt. 

“I’ll see you guys there,” Skye says, spinning her car keys around her finger. “You know, I thought about jacking Lola.” 

Jemma laughs softly. “Let’s just hope we don’t get caught sneaking in by May.” 

Fitz stiffens and looks at his watch. “Oh no.” 

He drives like a madman back to the Playground, grumbling about bad girl shenanigans and getting killed by May and nobody ever finding his body. He drives slowly into the base, clicking off the headlights. The garage is pitch black, and he lets out a sigh of relief as he gets out to walk around to Jemma’s side. She’s slumped against the door of the SUV, halfway sleeping already. 

He jumps and screams when he notices May silently watching him with her arms crossed over her chest. 

“Fitz,” she says, obviously unamused. Skye turns her car off just in time to get stuck in the crossfire. She steps out and gulps. May looks like she’s about to roll her eyes. “Skye.” 

“It’s not what it looks like,” Skye begins. May holds up a hand.

“You are covered in dirt and there’s blood on your face. Fitz has an ICER in his waistband. I’m pretty sure the three of you just went into a field in the middle of the night so that you could activate Simmons’ new powers so she could try to control them. And that Fitz was there to take her out if he needed to.” 

“Not—not take her out. Just sedate her.” 

May huffs and gives him a disapassionate look. “Get her to bed. She must be exhausted.” 

She turns on her heel to leave, but turns her head slightly. “And by the way, if something like this ever happens again…come get me. I would have flown you somewhere better.” 

Fitz and Skye exchange incredulous looks before shaking themselves and moving to get Jemma out of the car. Fitz shakes her gently out of her slumber and she murmurs softly. 

“Fitz? C’mere. Back to bed.” 

Skye snorts and steps back. “I’m gonna let you handle this one, Fitz. See you tomorrow.” 

Jemma nuzzles into his neck as he unbuckles her seatbelt. “Alright, Jemma, time to get you to sleep, hm?” 

“Don’t wanna move. So tired.” 

“I know, love. Not too far to go.” 

“Can we stay—stay in your bunk tonight?” 

Fitz raises his eyebrows before remembering that she can’t see his face from her position curled against his chest. “Yeah. Definitely.” 

“Just seems comfy,” she explains. He chuckles and helps her out of the car.

“The comfiest,” he agrees. He half-carries her all the way there, and she tumbles immediately into the bed. 

“Shoes,” she whines. He laughs at her petulance and takes them off for her, freezing as he watches her begin to wiggle out of her black leggings. “Everything is sweaty.” 

She gives up with her pants halfway down her legs, and Fitz rolls his eyes and finishes peeling them off of her. Jemma reaches her arms toward him lazily and he sighs, lifting her shirt up over her head and forcing himself to calm down. He’d seen her in various states of undress before, sure, but she’d never been splayed out on his bed. 

“I’ll get you a shirt,” Fitz offers, adjusting his own jeans. She shakes her head. 

“No. Like this.” 

Fitz gulps, forcing down a breath before kicking off his own shoes and changing into his pajama pants. He hesitates with his hands on his undershirt before steeling himself and removing it. He crawls in beside her and inhales sharply as she throws a bare leg over his waist and attaches herself to him. 

“Sweet dreams, Jemma,” he whispers into her hairline, dropping a kiss there. 

*** 

A few days after the midnight field excursion, Fitz has no choice but to leave Jemma for the first time since she returned from the Monolith. It should be a straightforward mission, but the Playground team knows one thing to be a constant: none of their missions ever go as planned. 

The morning of his departure, he finds Jemma awake at an ungodly hour, face propped up in her hand as she watches him. 

“Creepy,” he mumbles sleepily. She huffs and continues to look at him unabashedly. 

“Just in case,” she admits quietly. He wakes up quite quickly at that. 

“Hey,” he says, tugging her down so he can pull her to him. “None of that. It’s routine. We’re just going to meet with some Army guy, and then I’m blowing a bunker.” 

She pulls away from him to look at him with wide brown eyes. He shakes his head rapidly. “From a very safe distance, I promise.” 

Jemma bites her lip and nods reluctantly as she burrows herself back into his neck. 

“I feel a bit silly, being this clingy,” she says after a few moments of silence. 

“Don’t. I feel the same way.” 

“Really?” 

“Of course. Last time I let you out of my sight, you got eaten by a rock.” 

She snorts and gives him a squeeze before she rolls out of bed. He groans as she grabs his hands to drag him upward with her. 

“C’mon, I’ll make you your favorite breakfast.” 

“Banana pancakes?” Fitz asks hopefully. She grins at him. 

“Damn straight.” 

That has him up and moving, and he finds himself in the kitchen watching her move busily around, hair drawn up in a bun and an expression of intense concentration across her features. She lets out a little yawn as she pours the batter into the pan, so Fitz busies himself with making some tea for them both. Skye enters just as they seamlessly swap places, face softening as she observes the way they subconsciously invade one another’s space. 

She ends up joining them for pancakes, even though it feels a little bit intrusive. They insist on her staying, and it’s been so long since she’s been able to enjoy some face time with Jemma. When they’re done eating, Fitz automatically moves to do the dishes as Jemma chats idly with Skye. 

“Hey, Fitz,” Coulson says, popping in to the doorway. “We need to go over some specs for the mission.” 

Jemma flinches and Fitz glances at her worriedly before nodding and moving after Coulson. He runs a hand along Jemma’s back as he walks by and she immediately relaxes. 

Skye leans back in her chair. “That! I want that.” 

Jemma gives her a perplexed and defensive look. “Fitz?” 

“No,” Skye replies, pulling a face. “I mean, not that he’s—you know what I mean. I just want what you two have. It’s so easy.” 

Jemma scoffs. “Easy?” 

“If you guys weren’t super spies? Then yeah, it would be easy. But even with all that crap, it’s always been easy for you guys to actually love each other.” 

Jemma bites her lip as she turns Skye’s words over in her mind. Even when she’d left for Hydra—that had been her way of loving Fitz. Even when he fought with her and challenged and yes—even lied to her—that had been his way of loving her. She supposes that they’re so inextricably tied together at this point that it’s all just second nature to both of them. 

“I’d never thought about it that way,” Jemma admits softly. “I suppose it is.” 

Skye nods. “That guy looks at you like loving you is the easiest thing in the world.” 

“I don’t think I would go that far.” 

“Yeah, well, you seem to be the only one who doesn’t notice that he looks like a heart eyes emoji when he looks at you for too long.” 

“He does not!” 

“He really does,” Skye insists. She pulls out her phone and quickly finds the photo. “Look at this.” 

It was obviously taken the night after her and Skye’s Power Showdown (as Skye liked to call it), but Jemma can’t recall seeing Skye actually do it. She and Fitz sit side-by-side on one of the couches, her feet tucked up underneath her and her toes curled under his thigh. She’s got one hand outstretched in explanation, a beaming smile on her face and Fitz—well, Fitz is looking at her with a small, tender smile, one hand brushing her shoulder as he tries to get her attention so that he can interrupt the story. 

“Oh.” 

“Oh is right,” Skye laughs. “I’ll send it to you.” 

Simmons nods in acknowledgement, but she’s already a thousand miles away, gears turning in her mind. Skye seems to know that she’s dropped some sort of bomb on Jemma, so she quietly gets up to leave. 

“Skye?” 

“Yeah, Jemma?” 

“I’m actually—I’m going to need your help with something.” 

Skye raises her eyebrows, her interest piqued. 

“What do you need?” 

“First I need you to hack into Fitz’s internet history from six months ago,” Jemma tells her. 

“Um, alright. Are you going to tell me why?” 

“We need to find what restaurants he was looking at the day I went missing.” 

Skye doesn’t even try to hold back her squeak of excitement.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma and Fitz finally get to have their date.

Fitz returns from the mission exhausted and a little dirty, but relieved that (for once) things actually went as planned. Coulson graciously allows him to seek out Jemma before debrief, and the panic begins to rise in him when she’s nowhere to be found. Last time this happened, he hadn’t seen her again for six months. All of his nightmares of her being pulled into the Monolith flash in front of his eyes as he races around the Playground. 

He’s moving blindly and quickly, scanning every area for her before moving swiftly onto the next. He doesn’t notice a hand reach out to grab his arm, and when someone tugs him backward he nearly shoves them away. 

“Fitz!” Skye exclaims. “Calm down, she’s okay. I promise. She’s totally fine.” 

Fitz nearly pants with exertion and stress as he glares at her. “Where the hell is she? Did you two do something stupid while I was gone?” 

Skye rolls her eyes. “No, Fitz, we were perfectly safe. She’s just working on something with Bobbi and she can’t be interrupted right now, okay? She’ll come find you when she’s done.” 

He scoffs. “Last time she was supposed to come find me when she was done, we had to call in a favor from an alien warrior to get her out of a rock, Skye. Forgive me if I’m not on board with whatever this is.” 

“Just—Fitz, trust me, okay?” she whines. “Please? I promise, it’s worth it. But I also promised her I wouldn’t tell you any more than that.” 

Fitz shakes his head in annoyance. “You two drive me up the wall.” 

Skye grins at him. “And you love every second of it! Really, Fitz, it’s all gonna be fine. Better than fine. Great, even.” 

He sighs in resignation, swallowing down his worry and the nerves in his stomach. “Fine. I’ll go debrief with Coulson then.” 

Skye nods and then takes off running toward the Vault. 

“I can still see you!” he calls after her. 

“Well at least you know where she is!” she shouts back, jogging backward. “Just don’t go down there!” 

He spends his entire debriefing session trying not to think about what Jemma could be doing down in the Vault, and why he can’t be involved. He hopes that whatever it is isn’t dangerous, and console himself that at least Bobbi is down there. Ever since her kidnapping by Ward and Kara, she’d been much more cautious than before. She’d also been particularly protective of Jemma since Hydra, so he trusts that she won’t let his best friend do anything too stupid. 

Meanwhile, Skye races down the stairs of the Vault. “Jemma, he’s back!” 

Jemma looks up from the dresses she studies with Bobbi. “Is he alright?” she asks worriedly. 

“He’s fine,” Skye tells her. “He could probably use a shower, but other than that, he’s in one piece.” 

Jemma shoots her a relieved smile and nods. “Good. Right on schedule then. And you’ve spoken to Coulson?” 

“Yep,” Skye chirps. “We’re good to go.” 

Bobbi beams at Jemma. “Maybe you’ll have to be the one to tell me if the ride is worth it.” 

Jemma nudges her shoulder fondly and holds up a red shift dress. “I’m leaning toward this one. I don’t really wear bright colors but—“ 

“Wear it!” Skye exclaims. “Oh my god, your legs would look killer in that.” 

Bobbi gives her an approving nod. “It served me well in Paris.” 

The other girls glance over at her, seeking a further explanation. 

“It was for an undercover job. It was--quite the distraction.” 

Jemma blushes and runs a hand over her hair. “I don’t think I can pull this off, honestly.” 

“Yes! You can!” Skye urges, shooting forward and pressing the dress against Jemma’s body. “Put it on.” 

Jemma looks to Bobbi for backup, but finds the blonde smirking at her with raised eyebrows. “I’m with Skye. You should at least put it on.” 

She takes a deep breath and quickly strips out of her clothes, face heating at Bobbi and Skye’s teasing cat calls. She pulls the dress over her head and turns anxiously toward her friends. 

“You’re wearing it,” Bobbi declares. “There’s no takebacks.” 

Skye just bounces on her feet and launches herself at Jemma in a hug. “You’re gonna take his breath away.” 

For a moment, there is a beat of tense silence. Skye opens and closes her mouth, trying to think of anything to say that can fix her slip up; then Jemma starts laughing, hard, and Skye and Bobbi quickly follow her. 

“He would love that joke,” Jemma chuckles as she dries her watery eyes. 

Skye claps her hands together. “Okay, time for hair and makeup. Bobbi, you’re on deck. I’ve gotta go make sure Fitz takes a shower and wears the suit.” 

“He doesn’t need to—“ 

“Trust me, he needs to,” Skye says, crinkling her nose. “You’ll be thanking me later.” 

She dashes back up the stairs and Jemma watches her go with a smile on her face. It had been far too long since she’d seen such enthusiasm from her friend, and she was glad to be a part of it. Bobbi patted the cot that Jemma and Fitz had abandoned after that first night in Fitz’s bunk. 

“Come here, let’s get started,” Bobbi says. “I’ll make sure it’s nice and natural, don’t worry.” 

Jemma gives her a grateful but nervous smile, and Bobbi squeezes her thigh. 

“He’s wanted this for a long time,” Bobbi affirms. Jemma looks away, guilty for a moment at her own emotional ineptitude. Bobbi catches the look and sighs. “Sometimes, we take longer to catch up, girls like you and I. We’re so used to being—tough, and protecting everyone else. We don’t know how to figure out what we’re feeling because we feel like we don’t have the time to deal with it. We don’t feel like it’s worth figuring it out, because we’re not sure we’re even allowed to be happy.” 

Jemma looks up at her, mouth open in surprise. “Bobbi, I’m not—I’m not amazing like you are. I’m just, Jemma Simmons.” 

“Yeah, you’re Jemma fucking Simmons,” Bobbi crows. “Two PhDs at seventeen years old! You jumped out of a plane to save your team. You went into Hydra with almost no field experience. You’re a rockstar.” 

Jemma leans over and squeezes Bobbi quickly. “Thanks, Bobbi.” 

“I mean it. And look, I know I’m probably the last person in the world to give relationship advice. It’s always been that way, but especially here. Everyone knows me and Hunter’s dirty laundry, but there’s more to it than fighting and sex. It took me nearly dying for him for me to actually get that, but better late than never. It’s always better to be late than to not show up, Jemma.” 

Jemma gives her a shaky grin and nods. 

“Good, now close your eyes.” 

*** 

Fitz paces nervously in front of the same SUV he’d driven Jemma to the field in just a few days before. He tugs anxiously at his tie, ignoring the blasé manner that Skye leans up against the car and watches him. 

“Relax, dude. We’re leaving in like, two minutes, okay?” 

“I just don’t—can’t you just tell me where we’re going?” 

“No can do, bud,” Skye tells him unapologetically. “But as I’ve said at least a thousand times today, it’s going to be worth it.” 

Fitz doesn’t want to get his hopes up, he really doesn’t—but he’s been doing the math ever since Skye dragged him into his bunk and demanded that he shower. When he’d come out, his suit was laid out on the bed and Skye was holding up tie options. He still had yet to see Jemma, and he had a sneaking suspicion that this was her plan. 

They hadn’t discussed their dinner plans since she’d come out of the Monolith, and he hadn’t wanted to bring it up. Their all-night talk about the issues they’d faced in the last year had been productive in settling the grudges and bitterness that had been suffocating both of them, and the last thing he wanted was to build those tense walls between them again. 

But…what if this was dinner? 

Skye’s phone pings and she hops away from the car. “Alright, 007. Let’s go.” 

“They’d never let a Scot be 007,” Fitz grumbles as he slides into the front seat. “Bloody shame if you ask me.” 

“Because obviously that’s the thing keeping you from being James Bond.” 

“Shut it.” 

His knee bounces the entire drive, despite Skye’s protests that his fidgeting shakes the car at every red light. 

“And they call me Quake,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. She throws the car in park at a stop sign and pulls a bandana out of her pocket. 

“What are you doing?” he yelps. “Cut it out.” 

“Fitz, just—would you just—okay?” Skye whines. “It’s for Je—“ 

“Jemma?”

“I didn’t say that.” 

“Yes you did.” 

“I really didn’t.” 

“You were going to.” 

“Oh my God, Fitz, just let me put this on you so I can get you out of my car.” 

“This isn’t your car,” Fitz corrects, but he lets her put the bandana around his eyes anyway. If it’s for Jemma, he can handle that. His heart beats hard in his chest and he tries his best to quell it as his band hand trembles. 

“You okay?” Skye asks in concern. 

“Just a little nervous. Y’know, blindfolded in a car and all.” 

“It’ll be—“ 

“—worth it? Yeah, you’ve said that a few times.” 

She laughs and turns up the radio, riding in silence for a few minutes until he feels the car stop. He hears her get out of the car and then his door opens, and she’s pulling him out of the car and leading him slowly toward something. There is a definite change of temperature as he is lead inside, and then he feels Skye give his arm a squeeze. 

“See you later,” she chirps, and then the door opens and shuts. 

“Wait, what?” Fitz yelps, reaching up to take the blindfold off. He hears a familiar giggle and he accidentally grasps onto what are unmistakably Jemma’s hands. 

She deftly unties the bandana and her face is unbearably close to his. Her face looks a bit like it did when they went to a gala for SciOps and for a minute he feels like he can’t breathe. She smiles at him tightly. 

“Hello, Fitz.” 

“What—where—“ 

She takes a deep breath and then a step back, and he can finally see her. She wears a red dress with lace detailing on it. It’s modest, but something about it has him clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides to keep from grabbing at her. Her legs look about a mile long and he gulps as his eyes finally meet her face again. She looks relieved as she gently takes one of his hands and pulls him deeper into the restaurant. He recognizes it immediately as one of the choices he’d agonized over, and this was the one he had planned on taking her to. A small, family-run Italian place with exposed brick walls and perfect mood lighting. 

“We never got to have our dinner,” Jemma explains to him. “So I had Skye hack your search history from a few months ago to figure out where you had been planning—“ 

He gapes at her and she shakes her head quickly. 

“I know, it was a gross invasion of your privacy but I really wanted this to be a surprise. So then we had Coulson help us rent the whole place out, and Mack helped me with all of this,” she tells him, waving her hand around at the décor. He hadn’t even noticed that the entire place glowed with fairy lights. “I just—I wanted it to be perfect, because I feel like ten years of our lives have led up to this one dinner, and I didn’t want to mess it up somehow by—“ 

He surges forward, tugging her with the hand she holds and heatedly pressing his lips to hers. She lets out a small gasp of surprise but sinks easily into him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. 

He pulls away from her, breathless as he presses his forehead to hers. His eyes remain closed but he knows instinctively that she’s beaming. 

“This is—it’s—perfect.” 

She pulls away from him and he nearly whimpers from the loss of her. She giggles and tugs him toward the small table set up in the middle of the room. He shakily sits in the chair across from her and she immediately grabs his hand on the table. 

“You just had to out-do me,” Fitz teases as Jemma awkwardly fills their wine glasses with her left hand. He takes the bottle from her and puts it down. 

“After ten years you would think you’d be used to it.” 

He raises his eyebrows and gives her a little smile that makes her stomach flutter. 

“Fitz, I wanted to—to tell you that I don’t know what I would be without you,” she spits out. He opens his mouth to speak and she holds her free hand up. “Just, let me finish. You make me more human. And I don’t just mean that because I have inhuman-level powers now, I mean it because when my scientific impulses head toward dangerous territory, or when I forget to stop and feel, you’re always there to remind me. You know everything there is to know about me and you still look at me like—like that.” 

He presses a kiss to her knuckles as she barrels through the rest of her speech. 

“I’m sorry I was late,” she tells him, voice cracking on the last word. His brow furrows in concern as he rubs his thumb over the back of her hand. “I’m always prepared but I wasn’t prepared for what you said in the pod. I don’t know why I wasn’t, because so many things now make it all so obvious to me, but—well, for a genius I can be a little dim when it comes to this kind of thing.” 

Fitz shakes his head. “Jemma, I was okay with waiting.” 

She pegs him with a look that is just so Jemma that he can’t help but laugh. “Alright, I was obviously a little—upset that we never talked about it.” 

She snorts and takes a sip of her wine. “You could say that. And I’m sorry for all of that.” 

“Me too,” he admits earnestly. “I really am. I didn’t exactly…well, I didn’t really make you feel like you could.” 

“Fitz, you—“ 

“—had hypoxia, yeah,” he finishes. “Still. I shouldn’t have let it take us so far apart. But it’s okay now.” 

“It’s okay now,” she smiles. He grins back at her and his eyes widen as a waiter places a giant pizza in front of them. 

“Is this—“ 

She giggles and his heart jumps. “I spoke to the chef on the phone. Brought my own pesto and everything.” 

He leans back and lets his hand finally detangle form hers as he laughs. “You brought your own pesto, Jemma Simmons.” 

“You know mine is better than anyone else’s!” she defends. “And I just thought it would be sweet. I don’t know if all of this will be any good on a pizza.” 

“So just pesto, no pesto aioli?” he teases, leaning forward to put a piece on his plate. She shakes her head at him. 

“No mayonnaise on pizza, Fitz.” 

He takes a bite of the pizza and his eyes nearly roll back into his head. “Oh my god,” he says around the mouthful. “This is amazing.” 

“Better than the sandwich?” 

“Nah,” he tells her with a little wink. 

“Good,” she smiles. 

Fitz picks up his wine glass and leans it toward her. “To chemical kinetics.” 

Jemma blinks, confused, before realization blooms on her face and she gives him a soft look, lifting her own glass and clinking it against his. 

“To chemical kinetics.” 

Later that night, when Fitz rolls off of her and throws his arm over his eyes as he tries to recover, he has to ask. 

“Do you think it’s wildly inappropriate if I write our chemical kinetics professor a thank you card?” 

“Oh, Fitz,” she sighs, grin wide as she leans over him with a giggle to place a kiss on his damp neck. 

“I’m just saying,” he jokes. “I really have a lot to thank that old bag for.” 

She curls around him and lays her head on his chest as his fingers comb through her waves. 

“Mm, he at least deserves a fruit basket.” 

“Let the man have some chocolates, Simmons.” 

“Oh, hush.” 

Jemma squeals as he swiftly turns over on top of her and captures her mouth with his. 

“That’s one way to do it,” she laughs. 

“Oh, hush,” he grins, kissing her again. 

Skye knocks on the door the next morning and slips an envelope underneath it. They don’t notice it for some time, but when Jemma finally opens it she nearly falls to the floor laughing. The front of the card is covered in little flowers and hearts; in Skye’s unmistakeable script, it reads “Congrats on the Sex!” 

“It’s signed by nearly the whole team!” Fitz yelps. Jemma giggles and pecks his cheek. 

“D’you think Section 17 is out the window then? Given that Coulson signed it and all.” 

“He what?!” Fitz shouts as she heads to the kitchen. “Jemma!” 

He almost misses Skye and Bobbi high five as he passes them. Almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should just give up. Everything I write now turns to fluff. I just can't help it. Thank you for all of the reviews and feedback! As always, it's much appreciated! 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr at superirishbreakfasttea.tumblr.com :)


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